He flings me hard onto the dry rocky surface
and I allow death to capture me in its embrace.
The colossal beast —with impenetrable armour—
standing over me like an immense tower.
...
Oh! who shall dare in this frail scene
On holiest happiest thoughts to lean,
On Friendship, Kindred, or on Love?
Since not Apostles' hands can clasp
Each other in so firm a grasp
But they shall change and variance prove.